Endangered Species
by Krahae
Summary: The offer came after she'd lost the last scrap of faith she'd had in humanity after the events at BSL. A new horizon, a new challenge. For a woman whose life was defined by what she overcame, the answer to if she'd go was already made. Possible one-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own: Metroid, Smash Bros., Macross, Evangelion, F-Zero, Starfox, or any other previously claimed intellectual materials. I do however own a Metroid plush hat. So hah.

Possible prologue, but it stands on its own well enough. Thoughts of a Bounty Hunter, as she considers a 'job offer'.

_The Patient-_

There are a hundred easy reasons that come to mind, for why she could be found in a back-alley clinic on the Outer Rim system TL-493. Getting a checkup was not one of them. "Jono," the blonde woman warned, "you've been pacing making that humming noise for five minutes now." Cold blue eyes pinned the disheveled little man known to his friends as Jono 'Jitters', making the skittish medic shiver much as his nickname suggested. "Stalling isn't a tactic I like."

"I know, Samus, I know," the shady medic replied, his voice dropping into a simper. "But well-"

"What?"

Ignoring the much taller woman's interruption, Jono continued, "...you're rather intimidating, and this isn't all good news."

Samus supposed she couldn't fault him. There weren't many other actual individual sentient beings in the known universe with her kill-record. Two planets. Three species. The Space Pirate High Command – repeatedly, annoyingly enough – along with near genocidal numbers of their supporting Urtraghus-native insectoid army. There were some races, some civilizations that could claim as much... but not individuals.

Despite being without her power suit, the blonde woman knew she cut a rather imposing figure. Her second home planet, Zebes and its slightly lower gravity, coupled with the Chozo genetics she'd been given resulted in her rather impressive physical presence. Oh, she wasn't hugely muscled like some of her fellow Hunters, the result of years running in heavy armor and adrenaline-fueled action. On the contrary, she was rather feminine for her supposed reputation, out of the suit. Again, she had the Chozo to thank for that, as they had 'cleaned' her DNA, optimizing it as they said.

The result was a statuesque, tall, lithe, pleasingly proportioned frame, whose only detraction rested in a face that seemed to have rarely smiled, and eyes that rarely relayed anything but threat. Which was precisely why Jono Caledra was earning his oft-lamented nickname, under her glare. "So, ah..."

"Just tell me," the bounty hunter prompted, standing from the examination table with little ceremony or hesitance. Moving to a nearby chair, she began dressing again, unseeing or perhaps simply uncaring of the doctor's appraising gaze, as she bent at the waist to slip on her underwear.

Shaking off his slight daze, Jono coughed, "Right. Good news is that you're of course, the picture of health – for the most part." Catching a slitted gaze his way, as Samus slipped a pullover tight undershirt down over her breasts, the greasy-haired man looked away quickly. "Ah, there are of course some anomalies."

Samus narrowed her eyes at the man, before motioning to him to continue. He wasn't hedging for any reason other than her own reputation, she felt. "Go on," she muttered, stepping into her jumpsuit.

"The Metroid's unique genetics should have been incompatible with your own," Jono replied, his voice easily slipping into a diagnostic cadence, a habit of long practice. "However, I think that, essentially by process of elimination, you can safely assume the Chozo portion of your genetics were responsible for it being integrable at all."

"Seems reasonable," the blonde grunted, kicking her boots on. "They created the Metroids, after all."

"Yes, quite so... what?" Samus blinked at the medic once, before he got the point. "Ah. Right, ah." Coughing, Jono nodded to himself, looking over his clipboard to occupy his eyes, realizing that was yet another secret he'd never know the totality of. "What I could gather from the scans from your ship, the BSL logs you provided, and my own tests show that the Metroid... _features_, you posses are stabilized."

"Stabilized," the blonde murmured quietly. "As in, not going away."

Coughing nervously, the medic nodded. "Yes, quite."

Samus wasn't quite sure what to think about that. She'd tracked down a doctor so out-of-the-loop from the Galactic Federation's network that nothing she'd talk to him about, or any information he'd glean, could possibly get back to them, just to get an update on her... condition. After the fiasco at BSL, she'd taken a long, hard look at the Federation, and with the loss of Adam Malkovitch, she wasn't well pleased with them. True, the man she looked up to as a role model was only an admiral, which gave him limited if still significant power, but he'd been the face of the Federation to her for some time.

Now lacking him, the face she could see was one she was having issues dealing with. Her dreams didn't help things. Samus had seen with her own eyes the plans those Fed scientists were working toward, and more often than not, in her dreaming those lab-coated humans bore Kraid's voice and eyes, reminding her just how fallible humans were as well.

She knew better than anyone that you could look perfectly normal, and still be a monster underneath.

Which brought her back to why she was letting Jono Caledra poke and prod at her. She'd wanted assurance that the Metroid influence on her was fading – not stabilizing. The last thing she wanted was for that hunger that had been haunting her days and the emptiness she felt in her chest to get worse... or be something that plagued her regularly. The emptiness was a terrible thing, slow and insidious, it crouched there, making her feel weak and without substance. It was the hunger, or rather, its calling card, like a growling stomach. A hunger she knew too-well would only abate when she gave in to the Metroid portion of herself, and drew on the life-force of some living thing.

Samus wasn't going to voice of show her worry to the man before her, however. That was for her, and her alone, and she would deal with it as such, likely when she was back aboard her gunship. "Alright," the blonde replied, finally. "What else?"

Jono blinked, thinking the woman before him would have reacted at least... somehow to his conclusions. Rather than dwell on it, he shrugged and continued. Best not to keep her waiting, he knew. "The bad news, then. I've isolated the biochemical markers in your blood that allow the power suit you wear to process and unlock its upgrade functions-" the medic cut off his abbreviated explanation, as he was suddenly much higher off the floor than previously.

"You _isolated_ them." Samus Aran was many things. Forgiving was not high on her list. What the man before her, held up off the ground in a lazy grip had said went against everything she had been told, for years of Federation work. Tests. Analysis. That meant someone had lied to her... now the question was, who? "Explain," she demanded, setting the man down gingerly, without apology.

Sorting his collar so he could breath more easily, Jono Caledra did just that. "They are, for lack of a better reference, like timed proteins. Adrenaline, endorphins, other stress chemicals prolong their lifespan, but without that," shrugging, he offered the woman a slight smile. "They break down."

Samus sat, brow furrowed in thought. It made a kind of sense. "So. Inactivity causes them to degrade? That's why my suit 'malfunctions'?"

"Yes, as best I can tell. The elastopolymer inner sleeve within the suit has a bioelectric sampling system, that analyzes your blood chemistry, to see what options to activate."

"So the options are all there in the suit, just waiting to be turned on?" Naked hope laced the blonde's voice, though it was well-masked on her face. Still, it fell when the medic shook his head.

Sighing, Jono took a seat nearby. "No, it's more complicated than simply throwing switches." Taking out a pack of stim-resins, he unwrapped one, popping it into his mouth. "Think of them like modular blueprints. Your suit reads them, uses that data to reconfigure itself. When the data becomes corrupt, the suit cannot access it anymore."

Frowning, the bounty hunter tapped her chin. "What about the X-parasites? I got upgrades from them, as well."

"You have to understand," Jono explained, "those markers aren't always just of Chozo origin." The woman started at that. "All that needs to happen, is for the data to be translated into your biochemistry. The suit has some hand in making the markers recognizable and activating the ones it knows, but I've analyzed at least thirty nascent markers, that it simply can't understand, that your blood carries. Something that the Chozo did, made you a veritable technological repository.

"Think about it like this," the man stated, gesturing to make his point. "They altered your brain and body, to store and compile this data. You unknowingly do so, adapting to situations that no one else can – enduring it, analyzing it, then finding ways to overcome it. Those processes trigger something. Your understanding is translated by the suit, into physical change. Your suit is an expression of that inner endurance and determination to survive." Pausing, Jono grinned widely, as he understood something. "Unlike other species, you can 'evolve' spontaneously. And when you no longer need those adaptations..."

Samus nodded, blinking rapidly. That also explained one thing she'd agonized over since BSL. How could the Federation send her suit upgrades? Unless... they knew this already, and had found a way to trigger those markers. Which again, made sense, considering what they had planned for the SA-X and their own betraying actions during the whole X-parasite debacle.

"So when I no longer need them, my body 'deactivates' them till something triggers them again," Samus concluded finally. It would be something Old Bird would do. Rather than making her an accumulated war machine, the elder Chozo would limit her potential in such a way. He was the one constantly warning her from a path based solely on her vendettas and need for vengeance. 'Justice,' he had said, 'has nothing to do with revenge. One cannot protect when the heart means to harm.'

Limiting her suit to supplying her with only the options she needed at the time, also seemed very Chozo to her. It struck a harmonious chord with the things she grew up learning, grew up around, in the small enclave of the bird-people. She had never been as pacifistic as those around her, training in a warrior's way according to their histories, but it was in _their_ image she did so.

It was oddly reassuring. True, it limited her abilities, and there was some frustration there. Samus had lost track of the times she'd cursed her luck, at having this or that upgrade simply disappear from her systems later, when it would be handy. But, that was the issue, wasn't it? Need, above convenience.

Jono's excitement countered her contentment, however, "The thing to understand here," the hyper man continued, "is that those fragments of technology and understanding are still there. Every one of them. Even some your suit cannot properly translate. Its like your blood is a record, a living testament of some... will to survive."

Samus nodded with a rare and fleeting smile. "It is. The Chozo are gone, but in this way, I carry their legacy," she murmured. The thought gave her some measure of happiness. More than her suit, she had something else, something more to remember them by. Perhaps it was time to go back to Zebes and see if there were some relics that could properly tap into those markers. Something that could make those things that weren't simply weapons and defenses more tangible.

It was at that moment her ship-link woke, beeping the code to tell her she had a message. Samus stared at the dull-metal bracelet for a long moment. "Ah, is something wrong?"

She looked back up at her doctor, blue eyes confused. "...who could be contacting me, here? No Federation contact can reach me in the Outer Rim, and as far as I know, no one here even knows me."

"You didn't register with the local Mercenary and Hunter's guild?" Samus shook her head, a negative. "Best find out then."

Nodding, she held out a hand, as the doctor offered his datapad. A few moments later, and her unmarked and untraceable account – well paid for through the Kirken – lowered by a hefty sum. "Thanks, Caledra."

Smiling at his much-inflated account, Jono could only return her sentiment, "Anytime, Samus. Really. I mean that."

Snorting in amusement, the blonde made her way back to the Rim planet's local spaceport, intent on finding out who it was that found her this far out of the usual lanes, and what to do with her new knowledge.

–

_ Storm Dreams-_

"Not bad," Samus murmured in appreciation, watching the dual moonrise crest over the horizon of TL-493's fifth planet. The somewhat dim red sun that sat central to the system painted an infernal light over just about everything – except once it set, and the moons rose. Some trick of the makeup of the larger satellite's surface shifted the light it reflected, making it appear a deep sea-green. Large and looming, the moon projected that stark change in hue down to the planet, bringing out nighttime colors unimaginable during the day.

Its companion rose slower, but was no less remarkable. "Why is it," she wondered, watching the oddly iridescent play of colors slowly shift along the smaller moon's surface, "that such sights have to be so hard to find?" TL-493-5 was a world of such contrasts. She wished, not for the first time, that it had a proper name, something she could recall fondly during her travels. Being one of untold Rim worlds and not even one with an indigenous population, it was relegated to the roster of Galactic Federation quadrant naming. Boring. Dry. Lifeless. "So unsuitable," Samus noted. "Maybe I should name you myself. I'll call you... Satori."

The blonde bounty hunter peered at her datapad once more, the cooling blue light washing down and painting her in ethereal hues. It made the planet feel oddly magical. She laughed quietly, thinking of that word. Magic. Just a way to say mysterious and incomprehensible, Samus had reasoned since first hearing it at the Federation Academy when another soldier-in-training had showed her her first holovid. Some tawdry romance set in a fanciful world, with wizards and a prince who could summon dragons. The only prince she knew earned the name through reputation, not birth, and as for dragons... Norfair wasn't a place of magic and wonder.

Now, though... this offer, or rather invitation, had been delivered by an unseen source, promising opportunity and a change in venue for those brave enough to accept. Bravery she had in excess. It was the suspension of disbelief that would allow her to think some agency could deliver what they promised that she lacked. "Smash City," Samus mused, shaking her head slowly. "What a silly name. But..." she flipped the pad over in her hand slowly, eyes reflecting the oceanic moon above her. "I do need a place to get away, for a while. At least till the Feds calm down about BSL, or I find more work."

That was proving her limiter, now. Without the Galactic Federation sending her constant bounty work thanks to her avoiding them, her funds were quickly depleting. Food, docking fees, fuel gel, money for information... a hundred different little bites, all swarming about her resources. Soon, there would be nothing left. The invitation however... "Free room and board for competitors, all expenses paid. Luxuries provided for exemplary performance. Prize money for winners available to all those who participate – exchange rates available on arrival, minimal overhead," she read off, with a bemused expression. "Sounds too good to be true."

Perhaps it would be, but her curiosity was running amok. "Besides, what else have I got to do?" With the Space Pirates leadership in shambles or dead after the Phazon War, the X-parasites either exterminated or hiding so well they were invisible, Metroids no longer a threat – she'd never kill one again, regardless – to her, and the Galactic Federation losing a good portion of its accrued luster, Samus found herself rather adrift.

Coming to a decision, she began to pen a response, typing it onto her datapad. "I'll have them contact me on Zebes," she mused, deciding to set that as her 'home', in the reply. It would take a few standard days to get there, but she had other business on her adopted homeworld too.

"Even if there isn't anything left, it will be nice to go back." She wanted to find some traces of the Chozo that were intact enough to take with her. Something she could hold, something visceral. Plus, there was one other thing she knew would be there, waiting for her. With the Space Pirates, Phazon, and Prime gone, much of the planet's ecosystem had slowly began to recover, and she wanted to experience one thing from the planet before possibly leaving it behind for some unknown time. It was a memory from her youth, training and growing in the shadow of Old Bird.

The rains over Crateria. Something about them always soothed her, made her feel at home. Those great, roiling, volatile thunderstorms that could reshape the landscape some seasons were a fond memory to her, something she missed and hadn't realized it for many years. Before potentially jumping to what was beginning to sound like another universe, Samus wanted to experience them one last time.

Checking the available memory on her ship's recorder, she smiled. "And maybe record them, too."

–

_The Gamble-_

Samus had remained skeptical right up until the appointed time, when before her grounded gunship a massive corridor, seemingly opening in the very air itself opened up before her. "Well I'll be damned," the blonde muttered, not intimidated, but rather somewhat excited. Smirking slightly, she nudged the controls for her ship forward, into the yawning light.

She recognized a wormhole when she saw one, having witnessed a few during her travels and the Phazon War recently ended. Leaning back in the control chair, Samus braced for the upcoming turbulence, and wasn't disappointed when it came. Not enough to shake her gunship apart, it was still enough to rattle her, and the blonde was more than glad to see the black of a starfield around her when it stopped.

On the other hand, she was less than thrilled when her navigational computer basically hiccuped and started calling her a drunken whore, in not such pleasant language. Disengaging the yowling device, Samus noted that it was soundly confused – not a state she could fault. Taking a closer look at the not-so-empty black around her, she couldn't even begin to place her location. "Outside the Milky Way?" She didn't know much about wormholes, but such distances, compensating for the unbelievable speeds involved in galactic movement, were theorized to be impossible for at least a handful of reasons. Whistling lowly, Samus adjusted her ship's bearing, sending it into a slow tumble so as to see where she'd ended up.

As her gunship's nose crossed her starting horizon, she noted the planet that her ship had apparently come out of transit some distance from. Samus glanced at the distance immediately, relaxing by small degrees as it became apparent she was far enough not to get caught in the gravity well before she could react. That done, the blonde took in the view, always enjoying her first few moments to visually take in new planets. Blue with large oceans countered by a large central land mass, the home of those that invited her seemed a pleasant enough place at first glance. A few commands to the navigational computer – rebooted and silent now, thank the Ancestors – gave her a rough estimate of her immediate location and its contents-

Eyes flying wide, she jammed her controls forward, sending the ship into a rapid forward dive, avoiding the fusion-tail of a passing interceptor-class light frigate. "Son of a bitch," the blonde cursed, palming the cold metal disk of her suit, where it sat nascent on her hip. With a whirring buzz the power suit expanded and manifested around her, its own interface coordinating and meshing with her ship's quickly, improving her reaction times and those of her own gunship. Immediately following that, Samus jammed her accelerator to full, coming out of her forward tumble with a wrench.

Tactical showed the high-speed frigate to be much faster than her own gunship, but her directional and sensor arrays were top-notch. Fifteen seconds later she had the offending ship's course plotted, seeing as its pilot appeared content to run 'lazy' circles around a much larger mothership, she assumed. Snarling quietly, the blonde took note of the small ship's profile, appearing little more than an angular-framed dart riding on lossy, dirty fusion engines. Not being a fool, Samus didn't engage her weapons that close to what appeared to be the interceptor's carrier, knowing well that any weapons they had were far superior to her own array. If in nothing else, then just number. Likely, it was the planet's defense force, considering the size.

Expanding her scanning field, Samus noted another vessel, not as large as her own, but bearing similar capabilities. Differing in design from the other ships, the bounty hunter had to assume this was another 'attendee', like herself. Calming slowly after her near-hit with another ship, Samus, decided to forgo the star-viewing for now, opting to land and hopefully start taking advantage of this new opportunity.

Her waning supply of fuel gel had nothing to do with the decision, of course.

As seemed standard with most worlds that had space travel, docking was both a simple matter and a massive headache. Samus supplied the docking warrant computer with her encryption schema, which was then used to build an interface between the two computers. Once that was done, it was a simple matter to pass her information to the waiting berth, and land. The bounty hunter took some small pleasure in the docking crew's reassurance that the first time was always the worst – she'd be shuttled in simple and clean any time forward, now. Assurances were made that her fuel would be handled – as soon as she took part in her first competition. Unlike fuel however, food and lodging were simpler matters, she was told.

Joining her in the spaceport lobby were other races and competitors, she had to imagine. Lines between locals and competitors were easily noted, based on dress for the most part. The staff sported a similar look, each wearing a simple blue jumpsuit with an odd logo in red, along with stark white gloves. Strange, considering their work and the dirt associated with it, but Samus wasn't one to speak, walking around in her power suit.

Falling back on old habits born from years of prejudice, Samus did nothing to indicate her gender or race, letting those around her draw their own conclusions. With her suit back to its standard configuration, it was easy enough to imagine her an android or simple machine, even. Such actions also saved her dealing with one of those arriving, who seemed to think his reputation made up for what he lacked...

...which seemed to be quite a lot. "So, gorgeous," the helmeted man with the flare-collared jumpsuit smarmed, posing nearby a female staff engineer, "mind showing me around the town, when you get off work?"

The woman in question simply blinked at him, then chirped something in a foreign language, though her body language spoke volumes. Most of them were titled in various themes of 'no'.

"Ah, surely you've heard of Captain Falcon out here? Why, I was invited directly!" Polishing a nonexistent spot off his blue jumpsuit, the man continued, "Why, I bet there's a welcoming committee just for me, waiting to come and meet such a galactic celebrity. You," the man smiled in a way that made Samus want to bathe, "should be honored to be seen with a man like me."

Glad of her insulating anonymity, Samus wisely kept silent while he made his way around the port, hitting on any apparent female. There was a moment of brief violence as he made the mistake of approaching one 'woman', bearing a striking traditional earth-Japanese look, flanked on either side by a woman with two-tone blonde-pink hair and one with oddly styled green. The Yamato Nadeshiko turned out to be a simply very pretty male – who did not take kindly to Falcon's attention.

With some amusement, she increased her suit's audio gain, to pick up on the resulting conversation. "Sheryl... should we leave him knocked out like that in this place? It's kind of large..." Uncertain, the girl with the odd green hair bit her lip, fidgeting idly with her 'pet', a strange green creature that matched her hair color.

The blonde, identified as Sheryl, Samus realized, turned on her younger-sounding and looking friend with a fake smile firmly in place. "Ranka, it's fine. Right, Alto?" Alto, the faux Nadeshiko, merely grunted in an annoyed fashion, dusting off his own jumpsuit. "See? It's fine."

Ranka appeared nonplussed, but let it go in favor of fighting for her – and apparently – Sheryl's paramour's arm. Each to a side, the three took a nearby path, leading them deeper into the port, clearly marked by pulsing arrows leading further.

Cutting off her external speakers, Samus indulged in some light laughter at the Captain's expense, before following the trio. As they went, the staff grew more 'civilian', wearing clothes more suited to everyday work, rather than mucking about starship hangers. It was the next large lobby that saw a distinct change in scenery.

Port windows ringed three-quarters of the space, overlooking the primary spaceport Samus realized. The sheer variety of craft stunned her, as the took forms from everything imaginable. Vaguely biological craft, looking more like some strange disembodied organs, sat beside kneeling armored humanoids with weaponry the size of small buildings. There, she spied the dart-like craft that nearly seared a hull breach into her ship, while over to her right she noted a vessel that had to be Falcon's. Her own gunship sat, innocuous and quiet, between what looked like an ancient earth-era atmospheric fighter equipped with strange boosters and accessory armors, and what looked like a cyclopean humanoid, with massive shoulder flanges and an emaciated frame.

"Quite a sight, all that effort and determination to survive made into tangible proofs of existence," a voice murmured to Samus' right, and she shifted her view without turning to see the an old man, scarred and wearing enough medals and military kit to make her nearly salute on reflex. "I never thought I'd see the like, in my lifetime, but well... here we are."

Not knowing what to say in response to such a thing, Samus simply keyed her speakers online and mumbled a brief acknowledgment. "It is impressive."

"That it is," he agreed. "So many warriors. But," the old man paused, "I wonder. Did they leave their wars behind? Or do they seek new ones?"

Samus regarded the man for a moment, taking in his uniform. It resembled, superficially, the one the young man, Alto, wore. "Who says they seek anything," she replied. "Some may simply be here for curiosity. I'm sure there are as many reasons as those that showed up."

Chuckling quietly, the old warhawk pulled his billed hat down over his eyes a bit lower. "I wonder why some came to this place, what their reasons are. Is it that they have something to prove?" Smiling enigmatically, the old man turned and walked off, back toward the spaceport. "And to who, I wonder?"

"Strange old man," the blonde mused to herself, cutting her outbound audio. Shrugging, she followed those present to the reception area, to get her next directions.

"The spaceport is restricted to those contestants arriving by the same." An attendant announced as she took a place in the crowd. "Please respect the cultures and progress of other visitors. Cross-culture visitation of personal property is not forbidden, but please understand you do so at your own risk. Those not marked on the docking manifests won't be allowed beyond this point, without an escort pass, which you must provide and be present with at all times..."

Samus tuned the woman out, having heard similar speeches from other ports of call on frontier worlds in the past. The gist was mostly the same – don't freak out the low-tech population, and no one without authorization can enter the spaceport, to minimize potential damage. Nothing quite like a backwater bumkin waltzing into a warcruiser, thinking they can take it for a joyride. There were quite a number of radioactive former ports on such worlds, proof enough that such things _did_ happen.

Equally bored and reassured, the power suit clad hunter followed the throng to the rail shuttle, which would take them directly to the city hub. She was impressed by the level of organization present, having expected nothing more than a concrete pad to sit her ship on, amid a gawking crowd. At the same time, that very human level of organization and comfort disturbed Samus. No where in recorded Galactic Federation space was there something like this. No humans had such wormhole technology, and she was rather certain some of the machines docked alongside hers simply could not exist without some kind of notice.

The rail shuttle gave her the opportunity to observe her fellows, and the landscape, both equally interesting. Roughly half of those on the tram were human, or at least humanoid. There was one other full-body power suit wearer like herself, which her scan visor picked through easily enough – could they do the same, she wondered – a pair of vastly complex machines, or androids perhaps, some aliens of varying species, and one creature that seemed to need a tank to survive. Dispersed in no seeming pattern were the humanoids, most notable to her being Alto's little group, who's two women seemed engaged in a humming competition, much to their paramour's embarrassment. Falcon seemed to be recovered well enough to carry on some boastful banter with a small party of animal-human hybrids. Of which, amusingly enough, there was an actual falcon, or at least a raptor-template mix.

Some took note of the tram's speed and distance from the far-distant city, and took the time to mingle. Samus had no such urge, but did note those that did. Some unassuming humans approached Alto's small group, gravitating as some will to those they could relate to. As both groups were kitted with military uniforms, it would make sense. Boredom gave her incentive to reconcile the insignia they all wore with their vehicles. Like her, a young girl with blue hair and red eyes in a white jumpsuit surveyed those around her, looking displeased but not in any specific direction. It made Samus wonder if some were here on orders of their superiors. Such thoughts reminded her that these were potential enemies, not merely bystanders.

Closer inspection of those around her yielded varied results. Some were obviously not fighters... perhaps guests or dignitaries? It would make sense, Samus had to admit. Such an event would be a massive chance for fame and exposure, for both fighter and promoter. She considered it a demonstration of the wormhole technology, if not for the competition itself.

Turning her attention to the world passing below, Samus felt her nerves calming slowly. Blue-green seas broke the landmasses on which the port and city rested apart, vast and calm. She could see the shadows of sea life briefly, and behind obscuring metal she smiled. The planet seemed healthy, at least at first glance. There was a lot of green to be spied on the far continent, and from space, she saw little sign of the massive scars most heavy development left.

Sooner than she'd liked, they arrived at Smash City proper, Samus once again wondering how such an advanced and sublime place could harbor a city named as it was. As she'd expected, the masses split at the next lobby, with competitors and crowd being directed to separate ways. More registrations took place, and Samus was surprised to see that there were more options than simple one-on-one combat. Ship battles, sorted by capabilities, team warfare, blind cooperative battles... it was interesting to say the least. Eager yet nervous, Samus checked most of the personal battle options, knowing her gunship to be little on the way of battle-ready. Oh, it was good enough to get her around, and fight off occasional pirate frigates, but compared to what she'd seen... the hunter stuck with what she knew best – her own abilities.

Deciding to opt out of the coop battles for the time being, she applied mainly for single combat scenarios. One versus one, two, up to many, which she was privately excited about. Jono's words echoed in her mind, and Samus wondered what of her blood-born abilities she'd call up, for these battles? What new skills would she acquire?

Her smile turned wry. What would she learn, about herself?


End file.
